The bittersweet taste of oranges lingers on her tongue as the sunlight rests upon her face, causing her to peer into the distance with squinted eyes. A group of young men stood there, watching a single boy twist and turn his body on the pavement in a series of ridiculed dance moves. She watches for a moment, intrigued, and then rushes forward to join them, ignoring the protests of her friend.
"What do you want?" The tallest of the boys asks, stretching his neck higher to appear taller than he is.
"Holy crap," another says as they notice her, "it's a girl!"
She rolls her eyes in annoyance.
"What d'ya want?" The tall boy asks again, twisting his upper lip at her.
"Go away," another boy says, folding his arms across his chest, "this is a competition. No girls allowed."
She doesn't budge. Instead she brings her gaze to meet the boys and without thinking says,
"I want to compete, then."
The boys turn and laugh, mocking her shaky voice as they double over and mutter what she will not be able to do. The tall boy is the first to recover and looks at her again, trying to straighten the smirk on his face, and says,
"Show us what you got, loser."
Forgetting all that burdens her, she slides the zipper down of her jacket, wriggles it from her arms and tosses it aside. The boys snivel in laughter at her, watching her closely, searching for a flaw in her chance, to eat away the remains of her self esteem and make her never want to show her face again.
She strides to the center of the lot, kicking aside a stray pebble, and begins her routine. She begins awkwardly; her arms and legs seeming almost too long for her small body. She bends over backwards, slowly reaching for the ground with her hands, until she feels it, the rough asphalt digging into her hands as she shifts her body weight and throws her legs over her head, once, twice and again. She dances to the inaudible music in her head, the same polished steps she practiced every night alone in the empty spot in the garage where her father's silver car belonged. She moves her body with much effort, twisting on the ground, struggling to make it look as if she had a place in this. The dance ends abruptly; an unexpected stop after a distorted flip.With all of the dignity she possessed, she retrieves her jacket and walked away. The sounds of cheering erupts from behind her as she walks away with the weight of pride sitting on her chest.
She didn't know what made her look back, but she did, just as a man steps out of the long, silver car that was meant to be in the garage. Had it been there in all of the days when it should have been, this wouldn't be happening.
Here as requested. *rolls up sleeves* Let's get a crackin'.
Show characters in different lights when you get a chance. Yes, a character in question can also be a villain. Show them interacting with different people, seeing the world through their own perspective, having their inner monologues, contradicting themselves(yet make sure these contradictions apply consistently and make sense), changing into different directions, having crises of faiths, justifying themselves, making decisions and taking actions of their own, taking chances, making mistakes, trying to make up for them and, the most important of all, getting in different conflicts, be they large-scale, personal or interpersonal.
